


BOARDWALK BOYS - wish I was your man (discontinued)

by cryptidfucker



Series: the bmc kids figuring themselves out [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Christine Canigula, Boardwalk boys, F/F, Filipino Character, Filipino Michael Mell, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jeremy Heere's stammer, Jewish Character, Jewish Jeremy Heere, Lots of Descriptions, M/M, Mentions of the Squip, Multi, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Squip, Rich Goranski's Lisp, Romanian Jenna Rolan, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, The Squip is Kermit the Frog, Trans Female Character, Trans Jenna, Trans Male Character, Trans Michael, Transphobia, bc i. a portuguese person. want it, bear with me, but - Freeform, flowers and colours, he's totally a furry too, i am... a poet?, i have hcs abt their nationalities that drift the main thing, i try to be funny too, i want to rep my friends too, portuguese Jake Dillinger, that's the explanation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-06 05:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidfucker/pseuds/cryptidfucker
Summary: Gerard Canonico sang “when i was your man” and I couldn't help but imagine Rich singing this to Michael/about Michael on a moment of dismay and desperation after the boy "left" him for Jeremy (and then i sorta drifted from my main objective) so here is that!





	1. Rich's dismay

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first time publishing (and also actually writing) a fic so ya know, constructive criticism is welcomed! and appreciated! (also pls kudo and comment, i'd love to see what y'all think)  
> TW - self-harm (be safe kids)

 their shades of red weren’t meant to be, they weren’t meant to last, they weren’t even meant to meet, Rich knew this all too well but he would be _damned_ if he let Michael go.

 the two had talked at the hospital.

 Michael told him the pains the SQUIP made Rich cause him, he told Rich about himself at the Halloween party, he even told Rich about how he missed Freshman-year-Rich and the way _he_ spoke made it all come back to him all of a sudden, the memories no longer blocked, _protected_ , by the SQUIP and they truly felt like a cold water bucket to his face, like a slap on his face of all that he lost in the simple choice of taking that _damn thing_.

 Rich told him about the SQUIP, how it felt, how it hurt him, what it said and how it screwed him over. how it made him forget everything bad and how it forced him to do things he didn’t want to do.

 (Rich had a lighthearted note from the days at the hospital, when Michael almost cried laughing from the fact that his SQUIP ended up being Kermit the Frog because _holy shit, tough boy Rich would trust and listen more to an old kids shows’ character over a real person like he’d heard the other’s say their SQUIPs turned into_. it was in good fun and even Rich chuckled at the sensitive subject)

 they shared beds—Rich moved to Michael’s place after the latter found out about his abusive father. Michael’s moms were one of the kindest people Rich had ever met and everything felt good and happy and yellow—Rich had many nightmares; all the demons that haunted him before the SQUIP came back full force, but the worse ones were the ones _after_ the SQUIP, where Michael never saved them from this madness and all of them got hurt and broken and left behind, and Michael always told him to go to the boy’s room so he was safer, tightly tucked into the boy’s arms and _holy shit, Rich Goranski has never been so sure he was bi_.

 they shared music, as one would expect. they shared the sweet melodies of their safe space and they _built_ a safe place out of it. Rich was a huge singer, sang to every song he could, red golden streaks always boomed out from his notes. Michael was a huge dancer, every move of his body absolutely calculated and coordinated, wine shades coloring every space he occupied with his graceful form.

 they talked until the break of dawn, shared insecurities and let their un-matching breaths intertwine with the night—they never talked about more than friends, but their breaths and lips intertwined when the dusk came crashing through the blinds. their breaths would stop right before they spoke, their heads span in all the wrong ways right before that, the questions always came way too quickly before that, everything they knew came before that, _Jeremy always came before that_.

 yeah, that’s right, _Jeremy_ , the sweet boy with golden locks, who swept up the boy of dreams away from him.

 it wasn’t like it was his fault, Rich could never and would _never_ blame Jeremy for being a greater person but oh the pain that came with watching the pair be what he and Michael could never be truly was too much.

 but Jeremy was just about everything Michael could ever deserve and want and they knew each other for longer than anyone else in this godforsaken group and they always knew what to say and _god, how Rich wished_ they _were like that_.

 they always held hands, their colours clashed beautifully all the time, the purple shades of pure love splashed and filled every place they went together. they stood together and up for each other and everything they did was always blessed by every single god of love out there.

 

 

 it was a long and dreaded Saturday morning when Rich realized everything that haunted him was alive and _his goddamn fault_.

  _Rich_ had given Jeremy the SQUIP, _he_ was the one who tore the two most precious and valuable people, who had a friendship of peach shades and pure purple love, apart. _he_ was the one who made everything in his own house turn into shades of abusive black the very moment he came out, as everything came crushing down and if he’d just held it in _for a bit longer_ then maybe, just _maybe_ , everything would be _fine_ and he wouldn’t have to suffer with this god-awful feeling of unrequited love and golden suffering.

 he began pacing the room, afraid he would take action and go back to where he had begun, with his self-loathing and unhealthy coping mechanism.

 he was humming to himself before he knew it, singing out loud after a quick second and screaming at the top of his lungs, with tears streaming down his face, his knees pressed against the floor and with red-dead-flowers eating him alive.

 

_too young, too dumb to realize_

_that I should've bought you flowers_

_and held your hand_

 

  _oh_ , how those god-awful flowers hurt when they came, how they tore him apart and how his ribcages hurt from holding it in for too long. his suffering was back and god, _oh god_ he couldn’t take much more and he truly was going insane.

 he dreamt, eyes open as wide as his ambitions, how it would be if _they_ realized how much he craved for them. he dreamt, with his heart blooming with ache, how it would feel to be the one pressed in-between.

 

_Should've gave you all my hours_

_When I had the chance_

 

 he wondered, delusional wander consumed his every way and he truly felt like he could be a part of something as angelic as _that_ group if only for a moment, where everything could be fine and they wouldn’t hurt anymore and he could be _healing_ and not _destroying_.

 

_Take you to every party_

_'Cause all you wanted to do was dance_

  he danced like Michael would, he smiled like Jake would and he loved like Jeremy would.

 he danced to the beat of his suffering heart, he smiled to the memory of their faces proudly beaming at him, he loved his memories for as long as he could and longed for his dreams to come true.

 suddenly, Michael came barging in, like an intrusive thought would when you’re having a good time, except Michael was everything good and Rich was not having a _good time_.

 “Rich! I’m hom—“ he was shocked to see Rich dancing across the room to the sound of his own voice, smiling like everything hurt but he would never let anyone see.

 Rich dared to sing the last line anyways,

 

_Now my baby's dancing_

_But he's dancing with another man_

 

 and collapsed to the floor.

 

 

 

 Rich would later wake up to the soft sound of Jake, Jeremy and Michael’s voices, whispering around him in a tone of worried mint, peach and the soft colours of the sun.

 he was in Michael’s room, he would find when he opened his eyes to meet the familiar walls of posters, and the boys where sitting at the edge of the bed, with every colour sprouting out of their mouths in sad and ugly shades.

 “What—what the fuck happened?” Rich managed to whisper out, his voice was strained from either not talking or all the crying and yelling that happened before.

 “Well, _we_ would like to know that,” Michael scooted closer to him, putting his hand on Rich’s arm “I came home and you just fell to the floor after, beautifully might I add, singing out _‘Now my baby’s dancing/But he’s dancing with another man’_ ,” Jake approached him too, but he straight up laid down next to Rich, snaking his arm around his torso.

 “I—it’s a long story, alright?” Rich retorted, feeling drained from all of this attention.

 “Hey, Rich, it’s alright—if—if you don’t want to tell us, right now,” Jeremy managed to spill out, eyes red from worry and his lips curled into a sad frown.

 (this red wasn’t a good color on him because it wasn’t _Michael’s_ , that was filled with love and everything pure.)

 “You will have to, _eventually_ , tell us, though” Jake whispered against him, the feeling of his lips moving against the crook of his neck sent Rich high into the heavens and back. “I mean, passin’ out like that is _not_ a good sign.”

 Jeremy and Michael ended up curling against Rich too, after both he and Jake made room for the boys. they told stories of the Greeks, the Germans, the undead and the fictional, spending time and tiring themselves out with what the world would deem unimportant but that was so important to every single one of them.

 the only thing different this time were the tears that sometimes flooded down Rich’s face—whenever  he remembered that he did not deserve this—that fell to Jake’s skin, who moved his hand to caress Rich’s cheek and then left it there and the fact that Rich went the entire time without sharing a single word.

 

Jeremy’s phone ringing disrupted the calm atmosphere of the boys’ comfort. the boy had a themed ring to every single one of his contacts so when a musical came in, they all immediately knew it was Christine and Jeremy’s heart fell to the floor with anticipation.

 Jeremy shot up from his place, excited blues swirling around him and meeting him at the edge of his warmth, and Michael rose a bit too. Jeremy and Christine had both recently auditioned for a role on one of the city’s musical and both he and Christine were anxiously awaiting the answer.

 “yeah?” he shakily tried out.

 “YEAH!!” they could all hear Christine’s excited yelling from the other side and soon enough, Jeremy had thrown himself onto the three other boys on the bed. Michael chuckled and congratulated the boy, pressing kisses to his whole face, and Jake and Rich sweetly smiled at them.

 they locked eyes, Jake and Rich. tight red locked with mint vines, red adventure intertwined with green comfort and suddenly they could feel the stars fall upon them, the planets all align and even the gods cheering them up.

 and suddenly,

 suddenly Rich was enough.

 

 

 Rich would most likely tell you he was selfish, selfish for wanting someone to notice and love him when nobody ever had, for wanting attention from the people he should never ask for.

 he had needs, sure, he needed someone to take care of him and to love him like he deserved something more than hurt but never would he ever act upon them because it wouldn’t be _fair_ and _not really what they would truly mean ‘cause I’d force them into something they most likely don’t want and_ —everything would spiral down from there.

 he felt as though he’d made them walk away.

 suddenly, after everything they went through, he was no longer called for their usual hangout. suddenly he wasn’t invited into Michael’s room because the boy was always so _busy_ and preoccupied with someone else. suddenly he wasn’t trusted with their secrets. suddenly Jake switched him over for Chloe. suddenly, Jeremy had _someone else_ to talk about his pains. suddenly, Michael had _someone else to love_.

 he truly hopes he could get up and clean his own act.

 you see, everything that lead him into never sleeping anymore, into switching the music for the blade, was the one thing _he_ did when they were all hanging out at Jake’s place.

 set the scene: _Michael, Jeremy, Jake and Rich, all on the house’s couch, sharing lifetime stories and forgetting the world outside. suddenly, Rich doesn’t talk anymore. it’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to, how to be, how to act, how to work as a human being._

_they leave him be,_

 they leave him be for so long that suddenly Rich stops reaching out and _they_ stop reaching out and suddenly everything that Rich had ever classified as _happiness_ and _golden_ had left him to rot and die amongst the flowers that pierced through his heart.

 

 the afternoon’s light comes in just the right way to shine on every single word unsaid under his rotting tongue, it shines on his every pain, trapped between his flourishing ribs and closed off right before his lips.

 he sits on the middle of the Mell’s guest room, the room that he had claimed as his own after the loving people from this household welcomed him in with loving and warming clashes of pink-love

 he has his knees on the floor, bare and craving into the wooden floor. his arms limp, his wrists full of hate marks from his own acts. red sadness booms from his ribs, light blossoms as a reaching out call.

 “… _my pride, my ego, my needs and my selfish ways,_ ” he sings to no one, he sings out because his heart needs for someone, _something_ , to hear his pain, so he lets the walls hide his pains. “ _Caused a good strong man like you to walk out my life_

 “ _now I never—never get to clean up the mess I made,_ ” tears flow down his face, his red strong ways flicker on and off as if he was being forgotten and left behind.

“ _oohh, and it haunts me every time I close my eyes,_ ” he had a beautiful voice, raw and strong and damn, he just wished he wasn’t truly alone in that moment and he just _wished_ someone would come and swoop him up to a better place, to that dreamplace he always wanted to visit.

 “ _although it hurts,_ ” he was never good at remembering how songs went, he jumped around and messed about the lyrics to fit into however he felt.

 “ _I’ll be the first to say_ ,” he suddenly got quieter, as if he was telling a secret for the four closed walls to hold close, to hide it between their cracked wallpaper _“I was wrong,”_ he always held that note, even between sobs and his body almost giving in to the blood that trickled from his wrists.

 “ _I know I’m probably much too late,_ ” like always, he was _always too late_ , always _not enough_.

  _“to try and apologize for my mistakes,”_ except he never really does apologize, he always fucks it up and hides between closed walls and makes it about _himself_ and how _he_ is hurting and _oh my god, can’t I just make things for others?_.

 _“but I just want you to know,_ ” _that I love you_ , _oh gods, how I love you_ —except that goes unsaid, unheard, always trapped in the thorns that the flowers that cut his air leave behind.

_I hope he buys you flowers_

_I hope he holds your hand_

 

 Michael enters the house, the big gloom of the afternoon’s glow has set between the vagueness of the house and suddenly Michael is worried sick—anxiety seeps into his skin, making him walk fat through the house.

 he hears Rich sing, the heartbreaking sobs of the boy and the cracking of his voice had made Michael almost _die_ , with the words of his love left unsaid, but he did not think this would be how the scene would set itself.

 of course he knew about Rich’s tendency of self-harm, of his self-loathing but Michael truly thought he was getting better (and he was, but relapses happen and that would be okay if he could rise to his feet again afterwards) but right now, Michael needed to find the other boy.

 

Give you all his hours

When he has the chance

 

 

 the shorter boy was found. his four walls betrayed him and let him go, they shared his secret to the one he dreaded the most would hear.

 someone did come. someone did care. but all Rich could think of was the fact that he had successfully ruined his own hidden plan: rot and never be found.

 he kept singing, in a daze, even if Michael had brought him down to the kitchen and was currently freaking out over his cuts. everything was hazy and he reached up his hand to Michael’s hair, always so soft and a mess.

  _“take you to every party cause I remember how much you loved to dance,”_ Michael ignored him, his heart aching as the boy still shed tears and broken shades of nothing but hurt and angry reds.

  _“do all the things I should’ve done, when I was your man,”_ except Rich was _not_ his man and the thought ‘ _oh my god, I wish I had been’_ goes through his head a million times before his vision hazes with darkness and he hears himself repeat the same line in a whisper that would’ve been missed had Michael not been so close.

 

_“do all the things I should have done_

_when I was your man”_


	2. late nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rich and Jake talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sO i fell ill  
> and then depression hit me  
> but uh here is

 Rich’s eyes fluttered open and the first thing he noticed were the posters on the walls, something odd laid inside the white walls.

 he let out a low grunt, trying to shift himself to a more comfortable position and Michael immediately ran to him, almost tipping over the chair he was sat on.

 “Rich!” he hugged the shorter boy, throwing himself on the bed beside him “Oh my god, I was so fucking worried about you! Don’t you dare pulling that—fuck,” Rich dazedly patted his back.

 “I—uh, I can’t exactly remember what happened…” Michael pulled back, sighing sadly.

 “Well, when I came home the living room was completely empty and I could hear the faint sound of your voice. I became worried when I remembered that you said you hid yourself whenever you—” a beat “whenever you hurt yourself,” Rich casted his eyes downwards and Michael gently lifter his chin “Rich, hey, buddy, are you _sure_ you don’t want to talk…?” Rich shook his head, dazed, way too dazed to even try and begin to understand what he had just done. of _course_ he had to go and do some stupid crap, god, _how he wished he was dead_.

 Michael sighed and gently laid him down, smiling sweetly, _way too_ sweetly and peach and _god_ Rich did _not_ deserve this.

 A beat. A pause. A breath.

 “Rich, have I ever told you about the constellations?” Michael knew he had but Rich smiled softly, Rich let go of the deep red that seeped through the bandages and stained his heart, Rich let go of the vines that cut through his safety and held him captive and suddenly Michael thought it was okay to repeat himself.

 “No, I don’t think you have,” but he had and it was amazing and magical but Rich really just _loved_ hearing Michael talk about them as if he owned the universe (and maybe he did).

 “Well, then Imma change that,” and so he began the tale, Michael created universes with words and love from his every strand. it truly was incredible the way Michael could do that, he could make up and tell stories about faraway places like he owned them.

 

 Michael and Rich would spend the morning, the very start of the day after the breakdown, like that. tangled in a mess of limbs and blankets, telling the stories of the universe like the world was ending and having fun in their own ways.

 Rich suggested that they call Jake and Jeremy to hang out with them too, watch a movie and forget what happened,

 (Michael wanted to talk about it, understand the reason why Rich would go and hide himself when he was suffering so much but he would never force him to talk about it.)

 and so, it happened.

 

 At around twelve p.m., they heard the enthusiastic voice of Jake Dillinger bouncing on the white walls of the Mell’s household, his orange-fleeting voice roared across the empty halls and destroyed every single dullness hidden on the cracks, and the lightness of Jeremy Heere’s footsteps, the sound of the lightest piano keys accompanying Jake’s melodic voice and turning it into a fairytale.

 They burst into the room, their eyes laying on the boys’ figures, Rich had his arms all wrapped up and around Michael’s soft stomach, his eyes almost shut as he quietly hummed,

 (Lewis Capaldi’s song _Lost On You_ was all that filled his memory, the lyrics floating in his head as he pinned himself onto every single word, relating more than he cared to.)

 Michael had his arm around Rich, with his hand caressing his hair and the other arm was draped over his own stomach, holding Rich’s hand, intertwining his fingers with Rich’s almost disappearing figure. His breathing had rhythm and his eyes were closed, taking in everything he could find Rich giving.

 The two other boys could feel the love between them, the sickeningly sweet brown and golden ways of both intertwining every so softly on the space between them, and they smiled softly, not knowing how everything would play out but happy to dwell and gift themselves in this sweet moment.

 They closed the door behind themselves, trying to not make a sound but Rich managed to hear it and snapped out of his mind, cutting off his singing and smiling over at them, the creases in his eyes cracking with golden streaks.

 “Hey guys,” he barely held his voice above a whisper as everything still felt a bit too much “come on in, join us if you may,” Rich had a code with them, every time he wasn’t up to talking, he would use a more “formal” speech.

 “Hey Rich, you doin’ alright?” Jake laid down next to Rich, forgetting every “bro-boundary” that they’d forced upon themselves and snaked an arm around him. Rich snuggled close to him and hummed, not really to answer him but to feel Jake’s minty ways overthrowing his doubts “I can work with that.”

 And so, the four boys laid in one bed, not caring about the world at all.

 

 

 Sometime later, Michael, Jeremy and Jake would leave for a short bit. Rich, occupied with the tiredness of the day laying on his shoulders, stayed behind dwelling on his own thoughts.

 He thought he missed Michael, the way he could catch those soft edges of peach and coffee lips in-between his chapped ones in the short moments of their recklessness and uncaringness for each other.

 He missed Michael’s body, the way his chubby tanned belly felt against his pale face in a moment of characteristic behavior that Rich seemed to always fall into, in a moment of uncharacteristic love from Michael, who pressed his scar-filled-thighs against Rich’s hips as he strangled the latter with more love than the boy every thought he could deserve.

 He missed Michael’s hair, his voice, his everything. He missed what they could’ve been.

  _God_ , he even missed Michael’s demons, in a sort of fucked up way. He missed how Michael would always run to _him_ for love and to _Jeremy_ —though, he couldn’t really blame Jeremy.

 Jeremy had honey locks and pretty hazel eyes and he was loving and kind and funny and hadn’t tormented Michael for _2 whole fucking years_ and they knew each other for 12 years already and they were just so goddamn connected and they loved each other so much and _god_ , Rich just wanted the same safe haven they had.

 He truly thought he was going insane, with his brain shouting and not taking one, _just one_ single break.

 ‘Michael’s happy as your _friend!_ You can’t just go around tearing another people’s happiness’s apart! You should be happy _he’s_ happy’, it screamed and roared through his body. ‘Jeremy will never forgive you, you gave him that god-awful _thing_ ’, it supplied, ‘how even _dare_ you think like that about them’ and suddenly all Rich knew were the salty tears that spilled from his tired and dull eyes. ‘you don’t deserve them and _you know it_ ’

 And then Jake came along.

 And, yeah, they both already knew each other but, this time? This time Rich was real and sorry and all he wanted to do was explain and finally, for one second, what he wanted most was to _listen_

 (and god how long had it been since he just _listened_ to Jake talk, without having to pipe up with the forceful words of the SQUIP falling from his lips like poison? He never did listen to Jake.)

  _It_ always made Rich speak but yesterday, today, tonight and tomorrow, it was just Rich and it was okay to be quiet for a while.

 The demons might come for him, but as long as Jake was there, talking, it would be _okay_.

 And so, when said boy got to the Mell’s household to find Rich curled up into a ball of misery and sadness, he immediately sprang into action.

 He approached the boy carefully and sat down next to the small ball of sadness.

 Rich told him his woes—well, more like his whole… _crushing_ situation.

 “—So, you’re basically damned,” Rich was careful to leave names out, but he knew Jake easily picked up on Michael and Jeremy.

 “yeah…” Rich nodded, curling into himself even more. Jake lowered himself into the wall. “It just—it hurts so fucking much to know they’re just _sooo_ happy, you know? But—it’s also somewhat comforting how they, how they complete each other, I guess?” Rich poked his head out a bit, uncurling himself a little bit and wrapping his still-covered-arm around Jake’s leg and curled into the boy.

 His heart was racing, his thoughts running wild and his hope pinned on the fact that Jake would most times complain about still not feeling much on his legs so he wouldn’t notice the way Rich loved but also hoping to fill the boy with his redish shades of loce

 “And,” he continued, with his voice wavering between worry and sadness, “the other one has just been _so_ hurt by love—I just—honestly, I just want to pick them up and like, take them to La La Land or some shit—I just really want them to be happy… all of them… but like… with me included.”

 “Couldn’t you talk to them?” Jake’s voice was always soft, with loving green shades sprouted like grass and enveloping everyone with love. Rich always wondered how people could think he was like the other jocks, like how Rich himself once was. “I mean, you sorted almost everything until now with simply talking and listening, so, maybe—most likely—they will listen to you too.”

 Rich stopped.

 His breathing suddenly was no longer on his control, his tongue dried, his thoughts raced and his eyes fuzzed. Could he? Would they? Would he be able to voice how much he loved Michael’s hushed voice as he calmed him down from one of his panics attacks or whenever PTSD became too much to bear? Could he tell Jeremy he loved his slight stutter and his sarcastic and joking and funny and kind ways? Would he be able to tell Jake, right this moment, that he loved how he could and would always give the best advice and wrap him in the most loving hugs?

.

.

.

 No. No way, he was not going to ruin this _thing_ they had.

 “I—I wouldn’t dare—" Jake snaked his arms around Rich, tears rushed down the latter’s face, and pulled him into his lap. “I mean, we… we have this, this perfect thing that isn’t meant to evolve into something more—I know that.”

 “It always could…” Jake was so quiet that Rich thought this was all a trick of his brain “I—I mean!” he fake-coughed, madly blushing and silently thanking his past self for having pressed Rich to his chest. “You seem to have a really close relationship with Mi—these people. And like, by the way you talk about them, I’m pretty sure they would let you know if they didn’t wanna do things that way with ya. And I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t hate you, either,” Rich took note of the way that Jake held him, like he could lock up the entire world outside and just live in between this space. He took note of the way that Jake was always soft, warm and like he could be a home that Rich wouldn’t mind living in.

 Jake had always been warm, he always cursed himself for being way too hot to function and Rich always took it as a joke but _now_ , now he realized how truly warm he was. Rich really hoped they would touch more, soft brushed of hands or maybe even tight hugs when everything felt too much.

 “I don’t know,” Rich’s words were muffled by Jake’s sweater, his eyes trying to stop themselves from leaking once again. Jake held his head, petting Rich’s hair and holding him with as much love as he could muster. Jake knew the conversation was over and was comfortable with just being like this with the boy, quiet and over the moon.

 Some short minutes later, Rich was lightly snoring onto Jake’s chest, clutching and holding on tight to the boy’s waist and Jake found himself blushing and the feeling, his heart running wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real sorry for not posting earlier!  
> tumblr: @justaweirdowithspooks

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @justaweirdowithspooks if ya wanna yell at me!


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